


Pretty Little Face (Stopped Me In My Tracks)

by orphan_account



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Consensual Kink, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Genderqueer Character, Impact Play, Other, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-21
Updated: 2013-06-21
Packaged: 2017-12-15 16:12:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/851488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's an accident, when it starts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pretty Little Face (Stopped Me In My Tracks)

**Author's Note:**

> This is just some not-super-polished porn I wrote last night and cleaned up a little today. Also, Sasha is nonbinary in this fic and uses 'they' pronouns, and I don't actually have a reason for that beyond "because I wanted to."

It's an accident, when it starts.

Mikasa's angry, _furious_ , and she's stormed off from the cafeteria on her own so she can walk off her rage at Eren, outside in the dimming light, alone. She has never found it easy to think clearly when he gets under her skin, and she hates this, despises not being in control. So she's a little preoccupied, which is really all a way of justifying to herself how, when she hears someone jog up behind her and feels them grab for her shoulder, she thinks it's Eren - fucking _Eren_ , who refuses to listen to her or Armin, who she's fought with a hundred times before - and she turns with her first swinging.

It takes her a second to notice that it's not Eren standing in front of her, it's _Sasha_ , and by then she's too late to pull her punch.

Her fist connects with their cheek - hard. Sasha's eyes widen, and they stumble back a step, bringing one hand up to cover the bruise already spreading across their cheek. They pull it back and glance at it, as if checking for blood.

"Sasha," Mikasa starts, everything in her head spinning to a confused stop. "Sasha, I'm sorry, are...are you okay? I thought you were Eren. I didn't mean--"

She stutters to a halt when Sasha turns back to her, and she sees the look on their face.

"Do that again," they say, an awed sort of tone in their voice, raising dark eyes to meet Mikasa's. Then a flush rises in their cheeks, and they hurriedly stammer, "Um, I mean. You should do that again, if you want."

Mikasa frowns. She can't quite fit these pieces together - the lingering ache in her own knuckles, the heat in Sasha's voice. "Do...what?"

"Hit me," Sasha replies, earnest. "You can take it out on me." They smile crookedly at Mikasa and hold their arms wide, as if to give Mikasa a bigger target for-- what?

"...What?"

"You're obviously angry," Sasha hurries on. "And you like to hit people when you're angry, we all know that by now. So." They gesture at their own body. "You can hit me." After a moment's pause, they add, "I, um, kind of like it, actually."

Some part of Mikasa's mind is screaming at her to protest, that this is a terrible idea, but something in the way Sasha is looking at her - eyes clear and dark, stance betraying an eager energy - makes the words freeze on her lips. Mikasa has always been better at reading bodies than words, and she is still so angry, and the bruise blooming on Sasha's face is so, so beautiful.

Through the frantic, confused buzzing in her head, she hears herself ask: "Are...you sure?" She holds out a hand, palm open, tentative.

" _Yes_ ," Sasha says, and when Mikasa's palm connects with the side of Sasha's head, the sting reverberates through her entire body.

For a moment, she is feels equal parts elated and terrified. Sasha stumbles gracelessly backwards and down, and Mikasa is convinced she has misread this, misread them, that she has crossed a line. That she is the monster she always feared she was. Then Sasha looks up at her from the ground and smiles, dazed, and says, "Again." Heat flares through Mikasa's belly; she drops to her knees in front of them and pushes them roughly back to the ground.

As it turns out, it's not just hitting that Sasha likes. It's hair pulling, and biting, and scratching too. Mikasa discovers these things one by one, murmuring, "Is this okay?" before she yanks at the hairs at the nape of Sasha's neck, or bites hard at their breasts through their shirt, and each time Sasha huffs out a laugh and says, "Yes." With each affirmation, the whirlwind in Mikasa's head calms that much more.

What captures her the most, she thinks, is the cause and effect of it, the strange feedback loop of action and reaction. Raised red marks well up where she scratches her nails across Sasha's throat; Sasha gasps when Mikasa uses both hands to press their hips roughly down into the ground. Heat continues to pool low in Mikasa's stomach, up between her legs, a constant building pressure, and everything in her becomes fully, serenely focused on the ways Sasha's body reacts to hers.

Mikasa moves to grab hold of Sasha's wrists, then hesitates.

"Is this okay?" she asks, miming holding Sasha's wrists above their head. Her voice comes out sounding strange, a little more hoarse than normal, and she blushes.

Sasha laughs breathlessly. "Yes," they say, "yes, it's great, it's...okay how about this. Let's assume I'm okay with whatever you're doing, unless I say, uh." They pause for a moment, still breathing heavy. Mikasa watches the rise and fall of their chest. "How about 'applesauce.'"

"Applesauce?"

"Yep." Sasha grins at her - a lopsided grin, with the swelling in their cheek. "If I say 'applesauce' then you immediately stop what you're doing, no matter what. Otherwise, uh, have fun!"

Still smiling, they hold out their wrists to Mikasa. She rolls her eyes, but grabs and pushes them roughly up over Sasha's head, using the force of her weight to press them down hard into the dirt. Sasha makes a small, strangled noise and jerks up against her, and the sound of it jolts through Mikasa's entire body.

_Sasha trusts me_ , she thinks, and she can't make sense of that, but she feels an answering pull in her stomach at the thought. She pulls back to look at Sasha's face and squeezes her hands experimentally. The delicate bones of Sasha's wrists compress, shift discernibly under her hands, and Mikasa's head starts spinning again. This time, when Sasha chokes out another sound, she presses her mouth to theirs and swallows it.

Kissing is - it's not something Mikasa's really had experience with. From the awkward, eager press of their lips, though, it doesn't seem like Sasha has either, and she doesn't mind if they don't. Mikasa rearranges herself against Sasha's body and slips one leg between both of Sasha's, and they find an angle that works. She kisses them hard and clumsy, her chapped lips dragging rough against Sasha's own, and when she bites down, hard, on their lower lip, Sasha gasps into her mouth and rocks up against her thigh.

Mikasa shifts so that she's pinning both of Sasha's wrists with one hand and wriggles the other down between their bodies, stopping just above the waistline of Sasha's trousers. "Please," Sasha mumbles, struggling to spread their legs, and Mikasa shoves her hand down inside. She presses down on their clit through their underwear, shifts so she can add rough pressure with the heel of her hand. Sasha makes a choked-off sound and presses their face into Mikasa's cheek.

" _Fuck_ ," Sasha says against her skin, and the angle is awkward but Mikasa keeps working her hand, finding a rhythm as best she can manage, whispering, _I know, I know, come on._

It doesn't take long, after that. Sasha cries out and shudders against her; Mikasa bites at their lips, their jaw, the edges of the bruise on their cheek until it finally subsides and they lie there, gasping. Mikasa rolls off of them and to the side, and strokes their hair, a little awkwardly.

There's a long silence, and when one of them finally breaks it, it's Sasha. "Well," they say, sounding tired and more than a little smug. "Feel better?"

Mikasa rests her head on their shoulder and laughs.


End file.
